100 Theme Challenge
by InuGurl107
Summary: A hundred themes, a hundred chapters. All will be based on Virgil and Richie, unless otherwise noted. Slash. Genre changes per chapter.
1. Beginnings

A/N: Hey, guys. I know this isn't Dormancy Desire, for those that follow that, but recently, my computer got a mega virus from Hell, and we had to wipe it clean. Dx It SUCKS! So, not only did I lose a bunch of WIP artworks, but what I had already worked on for Chapter 4 or DD. So, it'll be a bit before I redo that one. Rest assured, soon. Or.. Soon enough. Anywho, this is the beginning of 100 chapters. On DA, Caenai-Gyoesari made a Writers 100 Theme Challenge, and guess who is doing it!? 8D So, wish me luck and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue.

**1] Beginnings**

Young Richie Foley had known what it was like to be the awkward, new kid at school. He knew that, as a new kid, he was going to be bullied before the last school bell rang. Especially since he wore clothes too loose, and large bottle-lens glasses. He'd kept his head low as the principle, whose name Richie didn't remember, pushed him through the classroom door, the whole sixth-grade classroom quieting and staring. He heard snickers; Kids in the back already dubbing him a 'nerd'. A older woman rose from a creaking chair to greet the principle, and looked down at the young blond. He was staring at the floor, between his one-size-too-large sneakers. The woman and the principle had a quick exchange of information, and then leaned in close. Richie could only hear a bit of the whispered words.

"..yes.. his mother.." "..needs someone.. ..lean on.." "..this kid.. ..with him.. ..ignorant..father.."

They leaned away, sharing a look after glancing somewhere in the class, and the principle excused himself. He patted Richie on the shoulder and left.

The teacher turned to the other students after he left and cleared her throat. "Attention, class. We have a new student." Everyone had quieted down again, all eyes on Richie. "His name is Richard Foley, and he will be joining our sixth grade class."

A spiky, red haired boy raised his hand; Not for permission to speak, but for the other students to acknowledge his speaking. "Mrs. Folap, I thought we had enough nerds in this class." He lowered his hand and turned his head to the back of the classroom, near a window, to a young, dark skinned boy with medium-length dreads. He seemed distant. "Right Hawkins?" Part of the class snickered, the rest remained silent, staring at the African-American. The boy glared at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He clenched his jaw and put his head on the desk, using his arms to hide his face.

"Francis, enough." Mrs. Folap commanded. "Leave Virgil alone." Francis high-five'd a few other boys but stayed silent. She turned to Richie. "Richard, I-"

"Richie." He said quietly.

"What?" She asked, bending down to hear him.

"My name.. It's Richie." He lifted his head to see her nod, and returned his gaze to the floor.

Mrs. Folap straightened and looked around. She glanced at the seats near the windows, then to the front of the room, again to the windows, and then the back. When she looked again to the windows, she seemed to have made a decision. The regarded the boy next to her and pointed. "Richie, you're going to sit next to Virgil."

At hearing his name, Virgil looked up. He rolled his eyes, but moved his bulky backpack out of the chair next to him regardless, and laid his head back down. Richie walked to the farthest aisle of desks, and walked to the last one. He released his own backpack from his shoulders and laid it flat in his lap after he sat down. He was glad he only brought two comics and a notebook today.

Mrs. Folap sat back down at her desk, searching for something. Unable to find it, she looked back up. "Virgil, please share your book with Richar- Richie today. Show him what we're reading, and explain what he doesn't understand." She mumbled something about needing new books.

Virgil glared at the teacher when she wasn't looking. She knew he didn't want to be near anyone, he thought. His Pops had specifically told her what happened recently, and he claimed to want to be left alone, away from the other students for a while. So why was she making this kid sit next to _him_? There were plenty of other empty seats. He pushed a textbook with more force than necessary toward Richie, and laid his head back down. Richie mumbled "Thanks.." and opened his drawstring backpack. Carefully, he pulled out a Plantman comic book and let his backpack slide lazily to the floor. He rested his forehead on the edge of the desk, lay the comic on his legs, hidden from view, and opened to the first page.

Throughout the class, Richie ignored the shifting movements next to him. He ignored the heat he felt near his shoulder after he'd turn a page. He even ignored the slight gasp after he'd turned to the page where Plantman's sleep-spores were backfired on him while the fire around him continued to grow. Richie knew when he was okay to turn the page, learning that the boy next to him would make the faintest whimper if he did so too soon, and slump back against his own seat. Richie would quickly turn the page back, pretending there was a panel he'd missed by pointing his finger at a random one, and feel very amused when the heat would return.

Closing the book after finishing the last page, Richie lifted his head to see Virgil quickly laying his head back down, as if he'd never moved. Richie rested his head on his arms, glancing every so often to the dark-haired boy next to him. He thought for a moment, and leaned down to open his backpack again. He pulled out another comic, and looked at the cover. It was the next issue to the one he... _they_ had just read. Richie smiled. They. He liked that. He glanced up to make sure the teacher wouldn't see, and pushed the comic gently to Virgil.

"Wha..?" He asked, taking it, confused.

Richie smiled at him. "It's the next issue. I've already read it. You can borrow it.. If ya want to..?" For a second, he thought Virgil was going to protest, throw it back at him, and tell him how stupid he was. It wouldn't be the first time someone did something like that. His father has done similar things, when he was drunk.

Virgil looked at it, and slowly turned to Richie, a smile threatening to split his face. A warm feeling built up in Richie's stomach. He didn't know what it was, but he liked it. It was comforting and strange all at the same time. Returning a smile of his own, he laid his head back on the desk, just as Virgil did.

_'I think I made a friend..'_

_

* * *

_

So far, a successful lunch. Richie was sitting under a tree at the front of the school, poking the broccoli with his fork, trying to convince himself that it didn't move by itself. He had yet to be harassed by Francis, having stuck around the classroom until everybody else had left. Richie looked up to see a crowd gathering a few yards away. By the way the children were slowly backing up, he knew it was a fight, and he knew he should ignore it. Of course, he was bored.. and curious. He stood up, grabbing his backpack, and made his way over to the ever-growing crowd of middle-school-ers. Some kids were chanting 'fight! fight! fight!'. Richie held back on the outskirts, not wanting to get too involved. The crowd grew silent when one of the students involved spoke in a harsh, teasing voice.

"-gonna do if I don't, huh?"

Francis.

Richie's brow furrowed. He hadn't even known the kid for a day and knew he was a downright jerk. Richie listened intently for the voice of the victim.

"Give it back!"

Virgil!

Richie barely noticed he was pushing through the crowd, nor knew why. He made it close to the front, a large boy blocking him from seeing the two boys directly, but enough. Francis was holding something in the air. A book. The comic book he'd lent to Virgil. It was being bent and had a large rip down the middle. Richie fumed and his eyes lowered. That jerk! That issue took him a whole day's worth of cleaning his room! Of course, it would've taken him a much shorter time, had he not gotten sidetracked with reading every comic he'd pick up from the floor. But nevertheless, it was hard work.

"Wat'cha gonna do if I don't?" Francis repeated himself. "Get your parents?"

Virgil's fists noticeably tightened, his jaw clenched.

Francis leaned in. "You gonna get your mommy? Oh, wait. You ca-"

Virgil's fist collided with Francis' face.

Then they were on the ground. Already, Richie could see blood dripping from the red haired boy's nose. Virgil was on top, throwing punch after punch. Francis was trying to get a hold on him to flip them. A boy grabbed Virgil's shoulders and threw him backwards onto his back, which Francis took the opportunity to mimic their first position, and as Virgil had done, throw punch after punch. A few boys, obviously on Francis' side, joined in, kicking at Virgil's side. Virgil could do nothing but cover his face with his arms.

Richie grabbed a young girl who's hand was covering her mouth and pulled her out of the crowd. Frieda, he thinks. "Hey! What are you-"

"Go get a teacher!" Richie yelled.

She was about to protest but Richie had already ran back into the throng of children, quickly making it again to the front. Instead of watching, Richie jumped in the middle, knowing full well he may regret this, and pushed one of the kids, kicking Virgil, to the ground. He knew he wasn't strong, and not nearly as strong as any of these, but he knew he had temporary surprise on his side. He'd make quick use of it.

Richie grabbed Francis by his shoulders, much as the other kid had done to Virgil, and pulled with all of his weight. However, instead of landing on his back, Francis stood up and turned sharply. "Well, well. The new nerd. Coming to save your boyfriend?"

Richie took a step back, abruptly stopped by the larger boy and was pushed forward. Francis grabbed Richie by his sweatshirt front. "You're gonna regret doing that." He pulled his fist back. Richie shut his eyes, waiting for the coming blow.

He felt the hand leave his sweatshirt. Richie opened his eyes to find Virgil pushing him backwards through the crowd. Looking over Virgil's shoulder, a teacher was running over, the kids were disappearing, and Francis was rubbing the back of his head, his own backpack laying next to him. _'Creative.'_ Virgil grabbed Richie's hand and they ran. They heard Francis yell, but didn't look back. Richie tried his best to keep pace with Virgil. They ran to the football field, well on the other side of the school. Virgil finally slowed down, panting heavily, just as Richie was. They made it under the bleachers before falling on the ground. They laid on their backs for a few minutes, catching their breaths. Virgil was the first to break the silence.

Quietly, he asked, "Why?" Richie rolled his head over to look at the dark-skinned boy who was staring upwards. Virgil had a bloody lip, and a purple blotch was forming over his left eye. Dirt from being pushed to the ground and kicked covered his yellow shirt. "Why'd you do that? You didn't have to get involved.."

"Cause.." Richie looked away. "Cause that's what friends do."

Virgil sat up, staring at him. Richie looked up at him and saw he was on the verge of tears. Richie sat up as well and asked, "You okay?"

Virgil moved before Richie could react, wrapping his arms around the blond's neck. "I'm.. I'm sorry 'bout your comic." He was crying on Richie's shoulder.

Richie, though surprised, cautiously wrapped his arms around the others torso. "It's okay."

Virgil pulled back, wiping his eyes on his shirt. "I'll pay you back." He sniffled. "I promise. I'll ask my Pops if he'll lem'me work at the center for a few dollars."

Richie tilted his head. "You don't have to do that, Virgil. Its okay."

Virgil shook his head. "Is not! You let me borrow it, and its gone. So I'll pay you back!" He seemed desperate. Richie didn't understand why, so he just nodded.

"Okay." Richie decided to change the subject, as to not upset the other again. "So, what center were you talking about?"

Virgil's eyes widened considerably, and a smile crept along his lips. "The center is where my Pops works. He runs it! An' its really cool! Lots of kids go there. An' there's a lot of fun stuff to do. Wanna come see after school? I'll need some help explaining to Pops why I look like this." He gestured to himself.

Richie nodded, happily. "Totally!" They stood up at the sound of the bell, dismissing them from lunch.

As Richie started walking, Virgil stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Richie?"

Richie turned around. "Yeah?"

Virgil smiled a toothy grin. "Friends, right?"

Richie returned it. "Yeah!"

"Even after I beat ya' to class?" He sped off in the direction of the front school entrance.

Richie followed closely behind, laughing.

It was the beginning of a life-long friendship.


	2. Humor

**A/N: I cannot believe I wrote this. Know how "humor" sounds like a happy prompt? Heh. Not to me, apparently. I actually cried while writing this, too. Yeah. For the full effect that I had, don't read until about midnight, when everything in your house is quiet. Then slip on some headphones and listen to this on a loop: ****http:/www DOT youtube DOT com/watch?v=A1-7RMAiabM****  
**

**Not even kidding. I hope you guys like it. I was in such in angst-y mood, and there doesn't seem to be enough angst in this fandom. :) Enjoy. By the way, the format could get a little confusing, because it jumps around, but I'm sure you'll be able to keep up. If not, let me know, and I'll edit it.  
**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing the toys. **

* * *

**1] Humor**

"_Look out!"_

He knew it was his fault.

He knew that he couldn't change what happened. Couldn't erase the memories, nor the sounds from his mind.

He would spend countless hours of the night staring at the ceiling, analyzing every detail from that night. Everything, from the light of the streetlamp that reflected off the knife, to the amount of blood that pooled the road. Going over numerous visions of what went wrong, what he could have done.

Anything different to save Virgil.

Richie knew that it was his fault, no matter how many times his subconscious told him there was nothing he could have done. He still felt completely guilty for everything.

Zmph.

He blinked, for what must have been the first time in... He glanced at the clock. Three hours and forty-seven minutes. It was a noise that knocked him out of his thoughts, he noted, which meant someone was awake. Slowly, he sat up, mindful of the already-made bed, and careful not to mess it up. He stood, and closed his eyes, the dizzy blackness evading his vision, antagonizing his headache further. When the dizziness ceased, he opened his eyes and turned around. He looked at the bed and leaned down to smooth out the wrinkles he'd created.

Laughter. Normally, a sound for expressing amusement. A sound made when one finds something humorous. Virgil would laugh at the cheesy makeup in the movies they would watch. Static would laugh at the stupidity of a robber that ran away from Gear and bump right into him. Then there were those that would laugh at nothing, for nothing, finding anything and everything amusing, or just because they had a voice to laugh with, like Shiv. Insane and psychotic.

Richie righted himself and picked his helmet from the floor next to the desk. He took one last, longing, albeit fuzzy, look around the room before slipping the helmet over his head and summoning Backpack with a thought. The little machine crawled onto the door, unlocked the knob, and made it's way back to it's master, reclaiming it's usual place on his back.

He climbed onto the sill of the already-opened window. He'd keep it open, so they knew he had been there, as was habit. Jumping off the ledge and firing up his skates, Gear flew from the Hawkin's residence, leaving the moon to shine in on the carpet floor of the bedroom that has become his sanctuary.

Then, there were those truly evil, that laughed at the tragedy and harm they caused another being. Those horrible enough to find pure joy with the blood of another on their hands.

Someone like Ebon.

Gear clenched his fists and directed his body to fly higher, to be directly above the city. It was quiet, but not peaceful. Chilly and noiseless.

Zmph.

Gear immediately swirved around, dodging to the left and downward, grabbing a ZapCap from his belt. He looked in every direction, but was too high up for someone to hide behind a building. Unconciously, he calculated the time one would need to reach the nearest building from the distance he was from the ground.

"_It'll only take a few minutes, Rich."_

Nothing. No one was there.

A trick of the mind, he thought. He returned the ZapCap to the cartridge on his belt, turned around, and continued flying.

"_V, please. I'm sure Rubberband Man can handle this one. Let's go home."_

In his dreams, Richie could hear the mocking laughter. He heard it as he held his friend, as his mind slipped into one thought: _"Please don't die!"_

He just wanted the noise to stop. He wanted the blood to stop flowing. He wanted to hear his friend tell him to stop crying and help him finish off the bad guys.

Even if Gear himself, was now dubbed as a "bad guy".

The pure look of hatred he shot Ebon as a warning to cease his laughter only inspired more. He decided to _make_ him stop. His body became numb and cold. His subconscious couldn't do anything but wish the noise would stop, that none of this was happening. After ripping a piece of cloth from Static's jacket and pressing it hard against the source of flowing liquid, Richie mindlessly stood, unable to hear the terrible laughter any longer. He mouthed something, but his voice wouldn't work. His helmet was sending readouts of increasing adrenaline, ferocious heart acceleration, and his body temperature decreasing frantically, from Backpack.

Ebon said something, still chuckling, that Richie didn't hear. All he could hear was his simple thoughts, and Static's words...

"_Look out!" _

Static's scream...

It was a few minutes after four when Gear took his usual seat on the clocktower, sitting on the left side of the large seven. "Hey, bro." He whispered, staring up in the sky, hoping he was heard. "Tonight's quiet."

When Richie crouched back down to Static, he wiped his hands on his pants as best he could, before pressing down again on the wound, which was still flowing blood in tremendous amounts. "V-Virgil." He said, shakily. His hands trembled as he lifted the head of dreads into his arms.

"R-Rich...I-" A deep-throated cough. "I'm glad you-"

"Why'd you do that!" Gear threw off his helmet with one hand after positioning Static's shoulders carefully in his other arm. "Bro, I need you with me!" His voice softened at the small smile that Virgil struggled to make. Richie removed the white mask from the dark skin. He wiped the tears that had streamed, unaware of his own already tear-streaked cheeks.

Virgil was now struggling to breath.

He only had minutes left, Richie thought as he squeezed one of Virgil's hands.

"Because, I could- couldn't let you get hurt."

Off in the distance, Richie could hear the faint sound of sirens blaring. He could get to them faster if he flew. He pulled an arm under Virgil's knees.

"No."

Richie looked at him desperately. "Virg, let me get you out of here! I can get to them faster!"

Virgil slightly shook his head. "It's too late for me, Rich." He coughed again, but this time, a small stream of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. "D-do me a favor and get t-this thing out of me."

"But V-Virgil... You'll die.."

"I'm sor-ry-" He took a deep, raspy breath. "I'm sorry, Rich."

Richie hesitantly grabbed the handle of the knife that had penetrated Virgil's heart, and exited out his back. "V-Virgil, I-I l-love you."

With as much strength as he could muster, Richie pulled the blade out and tossed it toward the shadow-meta-human's black blood-covered body.

Virgil gasped as the blade slid from his skin. More blood poured onto the pavement.

He looked up at Richie, a bright, white light forming around the two of them. Richie's form was becoming increasingly fuzzy. "Rich. I love you, t-too."

He smiled with pure acceptance as the light blinded his vision completely.

"It was quiet then, too. But we received that message about a robbery on Fifth and Main. The readout said Rubber-band Man was with the cops, and it was nothing major." Gear removed his helmet and placed it in his lap. "But you wanted to check it out."

"As it said, it was just a thug with a bag of jewels, and as soon as he saw us, he high-tailed it down the road."

"I chased after him on my skates, impatiently." Eyes welling up, he took a deep breath. "I should have waited, bro. I had...I had no idea Ebon was in the shadows. I had no idea he had a knife."

"He was laughing about it. Laughing!" He allowed a small sob to escape his throat, but kept talking. "Why'd you push me? I'm supposed to be a super-brain. I'm supposed to be the one to get killed protecting you. N-not the other way around!"

He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, trying to suppress the tears that now freely flowed. "I should have died. I should have been the one Ebon found amusing, sitting in a pool of blood!"

His sobs grew louder.

"I'm not the hero everyone loved! You are! Not me! Please, Virg! Please, God! Why!" He didn't know why he was begging, or what he was begging for. Most likely an answer, an explanation, a _reason. _He threw his head back and arms in the air. "He was the innocent one! I was stupid! Why do I live!"

Zmph.

Richie stopped moving. He was staring directly in front of him. He was watching a tiny, purple spark dance before him.

A tiny spark of Virgil's power.

Richie lowered his arms and reached a hand toward the small bolt. Nothing was there to make any electricity spark. No metal, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky tonight. As his finger touched it, it disappeared, but not before giving him a small shock.

He looked at his fingers and arm. The hair was standing on end, but nothing to worry over.

Richie looked toward the sky again.

"Virgil..."

He knew it was his fault. He knew there was something he could, he _should_ have done.

He spent hours of the night being taunted by the laugh that killed his best friend. The pure happiness they felt that his partner was laying in a pool of his own blood. The _humor_ that it was to them.

Richie just wanted it to stop.

"_Virgil! Don't-"_


	3. Drama

**A/N Alright. Here, we have Drama. Just a warning: I had almost no clue what to do with this, so it jumps around, a LOT. Just sayin'. And it's long as a mother-! I had no way to make it shorter. Anywho, enjoy this rare update. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**3] Drama**

"You WHAT?"

It was the third time Richie had yelled those words at the dark-skinned teen slumped on the old couch.

"It was an accident! I'm sorry!"

It was the fifth time the sulking teenager had yelled those words at the disbelieving blond.

"Let me get this straight: You signed us up for the Drama Club, which requires us to be there, a lot, instead of the Photography Club, where it's only during galleries that we actually have to be there? Dude! How are we going to balance our superhero-ing, homework, school, and now this at the same time! Not to mention we're looking for part-time jobs and-"

Virgil silenced Richie's ranting with a finger pressed to his lips. "Bro, it'll be hard, but we need this credit. I asked to get us switched, but photography is booked solid."

Richie softly smacked the hand away and leaned against the arm of the sofa. Drama Club. The club that ate time like mouse eats cheese, where they had to be present for nearly every rehearsal, or they wouldn't get their much-needed credit. How would they pull this off?

"Alright," started Virgil, standing in front of Richie's empty white board with a marker in hand. "I have made a way for us to do this, with good scheduling and all. It isn't perfect, but it's the best we've got."

Richie swiveled his desk chair around and plopped down, arms folded, ready for an explanation to pull off the schedule of their new class. And then ask for an explanation as to why his white board was empty.

Virgil started with drawing a mimic calender on the top-left corner of the board. He circled every day that had a capital M, W, and F on it. "These are rehearsal days. We need to be present for every rehearsal day. The both of us." He continued at Richie's nod. "Each rehearsal is three hours long." He scribbled this under the calender. "Starting this Friday, we have rehearsal for a month, so three times a week for four weeks." He scribbled under the calender again. "Then we have the play. It'll be one month from tomorrow."

Richie's head shot up from lolling back. He'd been lost in his thoughts, already having thought of everything Virgil was telling him, calculating the time they'd have left to patrol the city, adding in how late it'd be before they returned home if they had to stop a baddie, how long they'd have on their homework, and if they'd be able to get any sleep whatsoever. The chances were beyond slim. He sighed in relief when Virgil hadn't noticed his lack of attention.

"So I think the best chances are, so that we don't fail our other classes, is to take turns with homework and patrolling on rehearsal nights. How's that?"

Richie had to admit, if there was one thing Virgil was good at, it was surprising him. Richie would have bet a month's allowance that Virgil would suggested he be the one patrolling the city while Richie stays back to complete whatever homework they had to do that night. He knew he should tell Virgil that it'd be okay, that Richie would do the schoolwork. It'd take him no time at all with his mind, but he didn't want to pass this opportunity up to prove to Virgil that Gear can do just as well without him. "Okay," Richie smirked. "Okay. We'll try that. But we both have to take extra precautions during solo patrolling nights, just in case."

Virgil nodded. He turned back to the board and pursed his lip. "So.. What do you think the play will be?"

* * *

"Dakota's Finest?"

"A play about Static and Gear?"

Virgil and Richie looked at each other, mouths ajar, completely dumbfounded. Frieda was jumping up and down in front of them in excitement. Clearly, this was her idea.

"Just think about it! We could have the two heroes, who work great together, and the damsel-in-distress, the baddies, and all that!" She squealed in delight.

Richie stepped forward in quick protest. "Frieda, think about that for a moment. Virgil and I are your only two males, and there are what, five girl bang-babies, that we know of? Why not cast something that'd be easy to pull off with only two guys and eight females?"

Frieda's smile only widened. "That's the catch! It'll be every female bang-baby fighting against our heroes! And, of course, you two play the heroes."

Virgil stepped up next to Richie. "Thank you, Frieda. I'd be delighted to play Gear!"

Richie snickered. "If he plays Gear, I'll dye a mop-head black and be Static." The boys bumped fists when Frieda's smile fell and brow furrowed.

"No. You, Richie, will be Gear, and you, Virgil, will be Static. Now, both of you go over there and get measured for your costumes." She pointed to the end of the classroom where the closet was. Three girls were going through fabrics and piling boxes out onto several desks. "Daisy and I will be working on the script with the teacher." She called one of the girls from her post in getting the backdrop ready and asked her to keep an eye on the boys.

After Frieda left, the first rehearsal moved relatively fast. Virgil and Richie were both measured and fitted. Then they helped with setting up a quick backdrop, going back and forth to the auditorium to measure the length of the stage and curtain. The boys were quite surprised to see how much work they could get done in three hours. About ten minutes before dismissal, Frieda, Daisy, and the teacher emerged from the small office in front of the classroom. In their hands, they each carried a small pile of papers.

"All right, everyone. I know you're ready to leave, but gather 'round." The older woman called. "As you should know, I am Mrs. Folap, the English III teacher, and the Drama Club leader. I think, now that we actually have boys in the club, we could make this play a huge hit." The woman's eyes landed on Virgil and Richie for a brief moment before looking to the papers in her hands and telling the girls next to her to start handing them out. "These are only rough scripts, but they will be what we are reading for the character try-outs. Virgil, Richie. You two need to begin practicing your lines right away. Everyone else, please talk to Daisy about what character you're really trying for. But please take note that you may not get that character, but rest assured, you will have a part. Now, hurry home before it gets dark. I'll see you Monday."

With scripts handed out, the girls started rapidly flipping through them, trying to find the character they want most. Richie rolled his eyes and headed straight for the door, Virgil at his tail. This may be a long month, but tonight was Richie's first night on solo patrol, with Virgil hanging back to do their weekend homework. Needless to say, he was excited.

* * *

It was coming on seven o'clock. Richie had already donned his suit and was hanging back to run a quick look through the script with Virgil before he left.

"Ya' know, Virg. You could use some of these witty one-liners in real battle." Richie snickered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. To him, Daisy and Frieda had no sense in timing. All of Static's comebacks were placed in the worst moments. "Before the battle, after a good hit, and after the battle. Not when y- Gear is about to be clawed to death by Talon and Static is about to be drowned by Aqua Maria." He tossed the script onto the desk and threw his arms in the air. "This is a horrible idea! The ending has us unmasked! That's practically begging everyone to learn our identities!" He folded his arms as Richie snorted at something written in the script.

"Bro, listen to this. It's when we bust the villains in the final scene." He cleared his throat. "Static! It's time to break up this bachelorette party and take these bad woman to their cells! Oh my God, dude, I couldn't say that in front of the school without busting out laughing!" He clutched his stomach.

Virgil, however, was not amused. He pursed his lip and rolled his eyes. "You seem to be in a good mood, tonight." He mumbled.

"Of course I am! This is the first time I've ever patrolled by myself! It'll be nice, I think."

"Do you have your Shock Vox charged?"

"Yep." Richie patted his belt where the little yellow and black box hung.

Virgil stood up. "And you know to call me if there's anything you can't handle alone, right?"

It was Richie's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, mother. I know." His smile fell when he saw the concern in Virgil face. "Yo, Virg. I'll be fine. It'll be an easy night, I'm sure. And I have Backpack and my Shock Vox, and I've even put extra armor on tonight. I've taken every precaution. Don't worry."

Virgil's face didn't falter, but he nodded. "I know, man. It's just.. We've been partners for over two years. It really churns my gut to see you going at it alone. You won't have anyone watching your back this time. It worries me."

Richie put a hand on his shoulder. A small smile played at his lips. "I'll check in frequently, too, alright? Go ahead and get your uniform on, just in case. I'll be back around midnight. Kay?" Before Virgil had time to speak again, Richie was already grabbing his helmet and walking to the door. Backpack immediately followed. He opened the door to the cold air, and gave Virgil a last look. "Don't spend the whole time pacing and baking cookies, either, dear. You have calculus homework to do."

Virgil smiled and nodded, waving his friend goodbye as Gear activated his skates and flew into the night sky.

* * *

Several hours passed. The night was calm before, but with the weekend having started, teenagers were out and about for dates, pizza runs, much like Virgil and himself do more than he likes to admit, and just touring the late night stores. Richie had already caught some kids spray painting a convenient store wall, helped an old woman cross a busy highway, and even helped some cops catch a thief. Overall, a great night for the overlooked hero.

Gear had made a point to check in with Virgil at least once an hour, and after he'd done something heroic. Sitting himself on the clock tower to see the skyline, he sat back and prided himself in his temporary glory. He could get used to working solo every so often.

_EEEOOO! EEEOOO! EEEOOO!_

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

In the air as quickly as he could, Gear was already flying toward the sirens. Backpack was sending readouts of an escaped bangbaby on First and Main._ 'Damn.' _Gear thought._ 'If this guy is too tough, I'll need Static. And then there goes all my pride and acknowledgment of being a hero.'_ Putting a higher kick on the blast of his skates, he zoomed passed the police cars, scanning the streets below. It seemed like someone had a series of weapons at the ready. Slices, cuts, dents and punctures covered the street. Shattered glass from windows lay thrown about the ground. Metal from cars, signs, and mailboxes and other assorted objects were ripped from their original objects.

Gear landed in a close alleyway, looking captiously about where a few straggling citizens were hastily trying to get into the safe confines of their apartments and buildings. The sirens were quickly approaching, so Gear made quick work of assessing the situation and moving out of the alleyway. Backpack sent a readout that held the name of the escapee:

Shiv.

_'Great. The human artillery unit.'_ He armed himself the his latest Zap Trap, and the best weapon he had against Shiv. It didn't take long to find the maniacal bang baby. Gear could hear his laughter from outside the candy store a few blocks from First Street.

Shiv threw the first couple of swings, off by several feet, which Gear found odd. He normally gave Shiv credit for his accuracy. He also noted that Shiv's weapons had a much less illumination. The bright purple was merely a dim glow. Richie managed to fly in the air and out of swinging range and capture him in a putty zap trap quite easily. The police surrounded the angered bang baby, wary of his laughing, which wasn't odd to Gear, and hauled him into a secured truck and off to his escaped prison designed especially for metahumans.

Gear told Backpack to save the notes of the fight for him to look over later.

_Bzz_. "Gear! Are you alright?" Virgil's voice was heard through the crackling box. He glanced at the time in his helmet screen and figured 12:30 was late enough. He fired up his skates and directed himself towards the Gas Station.

"Hey, Static. Yeah, I'm fine."

_Bzz_. "I heard what happened on the news. That Main in littered with debris from Shiv. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Shiv was abnormally easy to fight. I'll tell you about it soon. I'm on my way."

_Bzz_. "Alright."

* * *

After two hours of Virgil rushing to check Richie for any injuries, going over the entire night in complete detail, and pondering over Shiv's even more abnormal behavior, the boys had decided to call it a night, not bothering to return to their homes, but, of course, calling Robert.

The next few weeks flew by, similar to this night. The boys taking turns on their solo patrols, checking in frequently, treating each other for any injuries with metahumans whose powers seemed to be lacking. It took Ebon several tries to teleport, Hotstreak's fire dimmed, and Aqua Maria's gel-like body seemed to be sustaining itself.

Virgil had himself started feeling his powers weaken. He didn't bother using his powers for anything other than flying and fighting, not wanting to risk completely draining them. He refused to tell Richie, though, not wanting him to worry yet. Not with Richie's focus being so heavily absorbed with their upcoming production.

Mrs. Folap had left the brainiac in charge of all the mechanical aspects. The line that would make it seem as if they were flying, the purple sparks to shoot out of a tube hidden under Virgil's sleeves as though it was lightening, and coming up with an easy solution for scene changes.

The script and plot of the play had been getting pieced together, as well. Virgil and Richie would suggest better lines and action moves to keep the story going without revealing themselves. They were pleasantly surprised to find that their costumes were quite different from the originals. Static's tank top was instead a muscle shirt, his jacket had a hood and was shorter, and the pants had no design to them. Gear's helmet was a motorcycle helmet with a green-tinted visor. It didn't work the same way the original helmet did, so he still had to wear his glasses under it. It was white with green painted onto it. The costume was white and green spandex, similar to the original design, but no protective padding. He was given knee and elbow pads, and roller blades.

For a low budget high school production, they had to admit, it wasn't that bad.

After rehearsal, with two days away from the play, the teacher called everyone in a last gathering. "I'm so proud of all of you. Especially you two." Mrs. Folap beamed at the boys. They both gave her a thumbs up. "I know rehearsal has been tough, a lot of you staying up late to get other things done like homework," Virgil and Richie looked at each other. "but I cannot wait to see the real thing on opening night. We've already sold so many tickets, so we can tell that this'll be a hit!"

The students left with pride and excitement welling up inside them. The past month had been a good one. There haven't been any permanent injuries during solo patrol, there have been less and less metahumans around, and they were going to get a great review in their performance along with a great grade.

"I'm pretty nervous for the play. You?" Virgil asked as they turned down the road to his house.

"Yeah." Richie automatically replied, staring at the ground as he walked.

Virgil waved his hands in front of the blond's eyes. "Earth to Richie! Hello?"

Richie startled out of his thoughts, nearly tripping over his feet. "Woah!" He caught himself and Virgil chuckled.

"Whats eatin' at you, bro?"

He didn't speak for a minute, finding the best words to explain his problem. "We.. Haven't seen much of, well, anybody lately. There are hardly any bang baby attacks anymore and I just find it rather suspicious."

Virgil looked away. He felt guilty for having kept his own worries from his friend. Richie was dealing with a lot, and then some. He hadn't stopped thinking about this either. "Okay, Richie. I say we focus on the play for the next two days. Then we'll be all over this right after. What all have we found out so far?"

Richie raised his hand, marking off his findings with his fingers. "Well, last Thursday, we learned that Dr. Todd created a cure for the bang baby syndrome. Maria is normal. Maybe he has something to do with it? Alva has been lying low ever since the incident at the island." Richie visibly shivered. Things about that island still went unsaid.

Virgil quickly changed the subject. "Then we go see Dr. Todd on Saturday. Deal?"

Richie nodded. "Deal."

* * *

"Oh man! Look at all of the people!" "How many do you think are there?" "Maybe a hundred!"

Several of the girls were peaking around the curtain at the growing audience. The one dressed as Aqua Maria, in a flowing blue dress with blue ribbons tied all in her hair and on her arms and legs, ran to the bathroom, her nervous stomach getting the better of her.

"Someone please go make sure Natalie is okay!" Mrs. Folap yelled. She was checking over all the props, making sure everything was in working order. Richie was bent down to the fog machine, waiting for the cue to turn it on.

Several minutes seemed like hours to the cast. Virgil was pacing, the girls were running around fixing costumes, and several teachers were helping make sure the backdrop for the next scene would stay put when moved.

Finally, the lights in the audience went out, and everything went silent. In hushed tones, Mrs. Folap gathered everyone close for one last inspiring speech. "This is it. This is hat we've spent the last month working on. If you forget your lines, who cares? Improvise. Someone will always be there to catch you. We are all in this together, so just remember what we rehearsed. You'll all do great."

Virgil squatted next to Richie, who reestablished his post next to the fog machine. The dark skinned teen put his arms around the others' shoulders. "Good luck, tonight, Rich."

"You, too, Virg."

They bumped fists, and then the deep base music started playing. A flute joined in, then percussion. The music flowed vividly, but it was dark. The notes weren't happy, but the sound of evil nearby.

As soon as the music reached it's peak, Richie flipped the switch to the fog machine. It quickly filled up the stage, looming slightly into the audience. A familiar laugh echoed into the audience.

"Dear, ladies. Come out to me. Grace me with your presence." The voice was strong. A strange noise was heard in the background, like snakes moving through leaves. "I will help you rid this wretched city of your heroes. Follow me, and together, we woman will rule all of Dakota!" Another high pitched laugh, and the curtains opened to reveal Frieda. Her red hair rested on her shoulders. It was by her green leotard and pantyhose that everyone recognized.

Poison Ivy. She had roses in her hair, and her makeup a stark contrast to her pale perplexity. She looked beautiful. Behind her, in the backdrop, vines were covering a wall.

An easy trick on Richie's part. Some of the teachers that were helping with the play were using magnets to move the vines from behind the thin wall, after having made the fake plants from wire.

Slowly, one by one, the female metahumans of Dakota emerged from behind the curtains. Aqua Maria, now looking strong and unnerving; Talon, with her store-bought lady-bug wings transformed into bird wings with the help of feathers and orange spray paint; Puff, with her pig-tales and clear attitude; And a former student, dressed in rag-doll clothes and heavy eye makeup, Madelyn Spaulding.

The play moved from there easily enough. After gathering the females, they set a trap to capture either Static or Gear, running behind the curtain as though to run behind a building.

Gear skated onto the stage first. He touched his fingers to his helmet, and a small, green laser illuminated a few feet in front of him, as though he were scanning the area. He put a makeshift Shock Vox to his mouth. "Static. Area clear."

This was the tricky part. Static's appearance. Mrs. Folap had wanted it to be spectacular. So Richie, using every machine on-stage to his advantage, used thick wire and a pulley to have Virgil balance on a trashcan lid that would descend onto the stage. With a purple light shining down on him, the audience clapped and whistled.

"Geeze, Gear. Should've told me to bring some pesticide. What's with all the plants?"

"I don't know. I assume it to be Poison Ivy."

Static exaggeratedly jumped back in surprise. "Ivy! But she's in Gotham!"

"I know!" Gear paced the stage. "That's what I don't get. Why would she be here? What could she gain?"

Frieda's shrill laugh echoed again once Richie had reached the other side of the stage. Aqua Maria burst through a bush behind Static. He jumped, falling to the ground. Gear, running to save his partner, was stopped by Talon, who had come from a bush behind him and they started to mock-fight.

Static was losing his fight against Aqua Maria. The 'water' draining his 'powers', he passed out. Puff came onto the stage. Hidden in her hands were small, vapor tubes, like miniature fog machines. She completely covered her, Aqua Maria and static in fog, which quickly dissipated to reveal that they were gone.

Briefly, the curtains closed, and when they reopened, Gear was standing face to face with Poison Ivy. "Uh, oh." He said aloud.

Then Frieda kissed him.

It couldn't be denied that Richie felt awkward at this scene. Frieda seemed damn thrilled, however. Virgil... Well, Richie couldn't tell. It seemed that every time that scene was rehearsed, Virgil excused himself to the restroom, accompanied by someone so that they knew he wouldn't run off, of course. Richie found it odd, but they had more important matters on their mind.

Gear fell to his knees. The lights turned from white to pink. He was under Ivy's spell.

"Gear. You will kill Static for me."

"I will kill Static for you."

The curtains closed for a ten minute intermission. The noise in the auditorium could be heard from a block away. So far, the play had been going great.

The cast had to move quickly. They changed the setting to look more like a street than a general area. Props were placed and people were finding their places.

When the curtains were reopened, Virgil was standing off to the right of the stage, and blue ribbons were tied up and down his arms, signifying that Aqua Maria had him captured. Puff and Madeline walked next to him, circling him.

"You don't seem too tough." Madeline smirked. "Where's your partner? Playing hookie?"

"I don't care where he is, as long as he isn't in danger." Static lifted his arms in the air. "And he better NOT be in danger!" The ribbons broke just as the lights above him shone purple. Puff and Madeline jumped back with fighting stances.

With gadgets, lights, and props, the fight scene was wondrous. Nothing compared to a real one, but nevertheless, good. Puff and Madeline ran offstage, behind the curtain, as though hurt. Virgil walked to the center of the stage, looking around. He was looking behind a fake tree when Gear slowly stepped onto the left of the stage. His head was lowered, and unmoving.

"Gear!" Static called out. He ran to his friend, before he could get any closer, Richie raised his hand that was holding a silver, egg shaped object. "Gear?" Static asked, carefully.

Frieda's voice then boomed above. "Get him! Kill him!"

Gear moved quickly, and the fight between Static and Gear had begun, along with fast-paced music. The audience went wild. The effects of Static's fake lightening, the Zap Trap, and the overall hand-to-hand combat, was astounding. Both boys knew every move so as not to hit each other and commit real harm.

Purple lights twirled around Virgil, who was in the center of the stage, Richie close to the left. In his hands Virgil was holding a purple beach ball that had a bright light inside. It was their rendition of Static's super-nova. "Sorry, Gear! But it's on!"

Just as the lights grew brighter, as rehearsed, several screams came from the audience. Virgil and Richie stopped dead in their tracks.

Hotstreak. He was holding a dim ball of fire. When held by a complete jerk with a heart of stone, even a match would've scared someone. He threw the ball onto the stage, where it hit the curtain. The flames grew intensely. People were everywhere, panicking and trying to get out the doors all at once.

"What do we do!" Yelled Richie over the commotion. There were too many people for Virgil to use his powers, and no where to change into their REAL costumes.

Virgil yelled the first thing that came to mind. "Improvise!"

They moved swiftly. Avoiding the flames as best they could, they ran behind the stage to get the ladder used for the backdrop. Virgil climbed up as Richie kept it from tipping. One by one, Virgil would touch the rings, and use the slightest bit of electricity to open them. Soon, the burning curtain was released from the ceiling and dropped to the ground. They both quickly rolled it up to perish any other flames that would move about.

"I heard there was play about Static and Gear, and I wanted to be a part of it. So come on, show me if you can fight like the real punks!"

The boys seemed to be at a loss for ideas. If they fought Hotstreak without their powers, they were sure to be burnt to a crisp. But if they fought with their powers, they'd be exposed. Hotstreak lit up both his hands, but his fire seemed dimmer than before. Richie caught this quickly enough, and looked at Virgil. They nodded, seeming to understand the other, and both ran in opposite directions behind the stage. Hotstreak followed quickly, running the path Virgil had taken. Behind the stage, fog covered the floor. Someone must have turned it on. Cloths, props, metal and lights were lying about because of the panic rush to exit the building.

Hotstreak heard a creak of metal and quick stepping. Virgil was climbing a ladder. He ran straight for him, getting a grip on the Static jacket and pulling him off. He ripped the mask off Virgil's face. "Ya' know, you'd make a great Static, if you weren't so weak. Right, Virgil Hawkins?" He pulled his flaming fist back, but dropped Virgil as something metal connected with his leg. He yelped in pain and spun around to face Richie, who was holding a thin, metal pole, about four and a half feet long. He stomped after him, ignoring the pain in his leg.

Richie ran towards the backroom. Swinging the pole behind him as he went. Hotstreak snagged it, and pulled. Richie let go and was flung onto the ground. "I really hate you. I really, really hate you. You'll pay for that, Foley." Hotstreak touched the helmet, and the plastic slowly melted.

Richie shrieked and pulled it off, keeping his glasses on his face. He backed up, trying to see if Virgil was making progress. "Virg!" He yelled, staring up at Hotstreak. His mind was jumbled. He couldn't think straight. No ideas were coming to him. Whatever had affected the rest of the metahumans was affecting him, too. "Virgil! Anytime now!"

Hotstreak raised his foot and kicked Richie in the ribs. A large clank behind Hotstreak echoed from the other side of the room. Richie desperately reached for something, anything, to stall the angered teen above him. He grabbed a shirt, a handful of ribbon, and a light bulb. None of them helped when he threw them. Hotstreak grabbed Richie by the hair, his hand quickly warming up. "Virgil! NOW!"

_RING RING RING_

The fire alarm was waling. The sound almost deafening. Richie knew exactly what was next.

_SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_

The water from the emergency spouts in the ceiling was coming down in showers. Immediately, Hotstreak's hand cooled. When he looked up in surprise, Richie took the opportunity to drop-kick him in the stomach. He knew he'd never forget how great that felt.

Up on his feet, he ran to the ladder where Virgil was on his knees. His electricity was slightly sparking around him, shorting out. "Okay," He shouted over the water as Richie lifted him to his feet. "It was a really bad idea to use my electricity on those things while my hand was still touching the metal ladder."

Richie smiled.

* * *

The police finally showed up to arrest Hotstreak. The play was in ruins, and the cast was in despair. Frieda was wailing on Daisy's shoulder. "All of our hard work, ruined!"

"Aww, come on, Frieda. It was pretty good."

"Yeah, no need to be too harsh on yourself."

The boys, soaked and slightly bruised, were practically carrying each other to the group of cast members. Mrs. Folap ran to them. "Boys! Are you okay?"

They nodded, telling her they'd be fine.

Another, very large group of people, started to gather. It seemed the entire audience was surrounding the cast. They began clapping, hooting and hollering. "That was amazing!"

"You guys really are like Static and Gear!"

"You make amazing partners!"

"I cannot wait for next year!"

As people cheered and congratulated everyone for their performance while it lasted, Richie leaned in close to Virgil.

"Bro, he HAVE to go see Dr. Todd tomorrow and find out what was up with our powers."

"Agreed."

"Also, we are NOT joining Drama Club next year."

Virgil chuckled. "I'll be sure to sign us up for photography early."

The boys bumped fists and went to join the rest of the cast for Burger Fool to celebrate a partial-production, well done.


End file.
